The blinding lie of the sun. The fluff, white in distinct, passing by and at night he is no more. Just like that. The vanishing of life disappear and those of the unknown cry on behalf of its whereabouts. The settling tips of toes lurking in the darkest of crevasses. Peeking for the pleasures of pain when the answers are never found. Your heart, rips and rages inside because the shine is the same as the blinding lie, yet oddly, to you, they are all the same. The light the dark the red the black the white the you, who knew your life could be such a shame, such a drain. All because the sun, like any other day, had gone and came.